A Healing Embrace
by Indiepup
Summary: Short one shot. Loki, the war criminal, who is the murderer of thousands of men and sends fear in to the hearts of many. Yet there is one who loves him no matter what: His mother.


_This is just a little one shot I wrote as practice. My friends really liked it so I decided to post it here. I hope you enjoy it._

The doors to the palace heaved open. Twelve guards marched in, heavily armed and protected. Eight formed a circle around the two others as they marched, the ones in the middle keeping a close eye on their prisoner. The guards in the hall stood to attention, watching the criminal, some with malice and some nervously. All this fuss over the prince. The one who had excelled in magic and showed great promise. He could talk his way in and out of any deal, helping to defend Asgard. He was bright, mischievous, clever. Now his silver tongue was useless, a muzzle in place over his mouth, his arms cuffed behind his back.

The once glorious prince still looked fresh from battle. His hair was tangled, wet and matted. Scarlet stains were strewn across his face. Dirty cuts, scabs and smears were everywhere on his skin. Scratches throbbed and oozed while blood and sweat dripped into his eyes. The battle gear was becoming a heavy burden as he walked, the weight of it causing him to slouch. His side burned with such an intensity that if he had not been against showing weakness he would have asked to rest. The cuffs clasped around his wrists chaffed at his skin. His muscles were sore, aching, longing to be stretched and relaxed. Every inch of him hurt, stung, burned, sweat, and grew tired. The only thing he need not rest was his mind.

He had been furiously working on a plan, a strategy, since he had lost the battle on earth. They hadn't taken his magic yet. The guards may not notice if he released his hands from their chains. He glanced up, his eyes flitting to each guard as he noiselessly slipped a hand from the cuffs. He would never be able to overpower them all at once. Perhaps if he waited until-

His ears pricked at the sound of frantic, pounding feet on the floor. The runner was weeping as they grew closer and closer to the group. Frigga, his adoptive mother had forced two guards out of the way, attempting to separate her from her child and the circle around him. She slowed only when she got to the wall of guards, shoving her way between them to get to her son. Loki took a deep breath and looked up to meet her face. His expression softened upon seeing her distress.

Frigga struggled for a moment, staring at the sight before her through bleary eyes. She tried to speak but every word stuck in her throat. She had never seen Loki after battle. Her little boy was disheveled. She covered her mouth, willing herself not to grab him and care for him. She held back a sob, remembering her mourning over her son when she was told he had died. Overwhelmed, she grabbed him and held him in a tight, motherly hug.

Loki tried to pull away. She was messing up his chance to escape. The longer they were stopped the more of a chance his free hand may be noticed. How could she help him at this time? How could she support him, say anything to aid him? She didn't know anything about his situation. She could never know what it was like to be him. She had never been promised what they could never give her. She didn't know what it was like to live in a looming, dark shadow; an enemy of your own kingdom. She could never comprehend how it felt to strive to impress and be noticed, only to be stabbed in the back.

"No matter what you do, you will always be my son." Loki, the murderer of thousands of lives, the destroyer of a city, the bane of a whole world, suddenly felt weak. Exposed like an open wound. He became a young child in his adoptive mother. . . mother's arms. He slowly lifted his arms, hugging his mother back. The cuff that had bound him dangled from his left wrist, every guard now staring with disbelief at the restraint. In Frigga's arms all the hatred and worry and spite melted into the background. Somewhere in the back of his head, he wished he could be coming home to his adoptive family. He wished to stay and remain in the refuge of his loving mother's arms.

A guard gently tugged Frigga away from her son. In turn the two middle guards grabbed Loki's arms, tearing him from his mother's compassionate reach. They roughly shoved his hand back into the shackle and pushed him forward as they marched on again. With a twinge of remorse, Loki continued, heading to where he would face the punishment for all that he had done.


End file.
